A Balancing Act
by christinap
Summary: Sandle pairing. Greg finds love, then he is forced to make a deadly choice in order to save the woman he loves. What will he choose? Either way, someone has to die. COMPLETED!
1. A Silent Night

* * *

Balancing Act

Disclaimer: I do not own the television show CSI or any of the characters therein. I do, however, own the random original characters who will make cameo appearances in this work. So there:-p

Synopsis: Greg discovers love where he least expects it. Then he's forced to make a deadly choice in order to save the woman he loves. Either way, someone dies.

Pairing: SANDLE…for those of you what ask what the heck that is…it is Sara/Greg. SANDLE is a combo of their last names… Sanders + Sidle Sandle. Get it? Hehe.

C-S-I--C-S-I--

* * *

"_Flow like the Cassius, swing like the Clay_

_One day, I'm'a make the whole world pay_

_With k.o.'s and okay we bash clots-n-dot-dash_

_You got that right, I'm'a rock the Morse code tonight._

_Transmit 'n throwin' fits 'n paparazzi like zits_

_Get flipped out and squeezed fresh like juicy sun kissed_

_And if I miss with my missiles you're still gonna sizzle_

_'Cause I frizzle fry radiation style worldwide. _

_You got your pipeline clogged man get that puppy routed_

_You got the style down and since you don't know about it_

_Who's the loser (I am) because we come in numb love_

_And choicer and did I mention looser (no you didn't) _

_Then I do sir, producer, hit me with the juice._

_Much obliged got the head of a moose_

_So mount me on the wall of your livin' room_

_Sure to bring the boom_

_Speakin' like a zoom deep into your tomb. _

_And if you feel the vibe glide true it's on you_

_And if you need to drive right through it's on you _

_And if your screamin' "moi non plus" it's like_

_What you tryin' to do when you can't fade the true one. _

_Eruption type volcanics I got the vocal spurtmatic_

_Suction cup hands upside the slammin' daily planet…"_

Greg stopped his vocal accompaniment to the stereo as abruptly as the music did.

"Sara Sidle!" The outrage in Greg's voice was belied by the tiny squeak that accompanied it. He cleared his throat, hoping she hadn't caught it. But of course, she had.

"Greg Sanders!" Sara squeaked back at him mockingly.

Greg put on a pout. "Stop making fun of me. And turn my CD back on."

"What? Making fun? Me?" She raised her eyebrows and made an attempt at an innocent face. "I was just coming to drop of some swabs for Mia to test." She set some evidence envelopes down beside him. "Where is she? And what are you doing back in the lab?"

"FYI, Mia is sick. She came down with a virus. Or was it the flu? Anyway, I thought I'd go ahead and process some samples for Griss. That new temp DNA tech…no idea what he's doing."

Sara nodded. "So, do you miss it, Greg? This lab, being a tech, working in here. I mean, it's like you're in your element here."

Greg cocked his head sideways, thinking for a moment. Then he shook his head, smiling. "Nah. I don't really miss it."

"Why?"

"Well, working in the field has been more of a challenge for me. I get to learn about things I'd have never even imagined working in here. Sometimes I feel like I'm making a difference…actually helping people. And, getting to work with you has been…it's been…" He looked down, almost bashfully. He wasn't really that good at sentimentality. "It's been nice."

Sara smiled to herself. _He's so damn cute when he does that._

He cleared his throat. "Hey, will you put my CD back on?" he asked, changing the subject.

"No! What in the world are you listening to, anyway? The lyrics are…they don't even make sense!"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Well, in response to the first part of your question, I'm listening to a mix CD. The artist of this particular song is TobyMac. And second, the fact that the lyrics don't make sense is exactly the point. The lyrics aren't supposed to make sense. The song is meant to be a random assemblage of words. That's the writer's artistic way of expressing that life in general sometimes seems to not make sense." He looked over at her. As he talked, she was making a talking motion with her hand and mouthing "blah blah blah" behind his back. She saw him turn to look at her and abruptly stopped her mocking. But it was too late. He'd already seen it.

He playfully lunged at her, but she was quicker. Darting over to the stereo, she managed to extract the CD from it before he reached her. Holding it at arm's length above her head, she taunted him with it. Grinning broadly, he advanced on her. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm, and with the other, he reached upward for the CD.

As his arm made contact with her waist, Sara suddenly started laughing uncontrollably. Greg raised his eyebrows in delight. "Ticklish, are we, Miss Sidle?"

Laughing, she gasped out, "I'm…not…ticklish!"

He watched her laughing face fondly for a moment, scant inches from his own. _She's so beautiful when she laughs._ Then he renewed his efforts. Sara, gasping for breath, managed to choke out, "Sexual…harassment!"

He stopped, but didn't let go of her. Her laughter slowly died, and she smiled up at him. He tightened his grip around her waist and gently pulled her against him. "If that was sexual harassment…what would you call this?" he asked softly as he leaned his head down and lowered his lips to hers. He felt her lips quiver against his for a moment, and then warmly respond to his. She deepened the kiss, moaning slightly and wrapping her arms around his neck, letting the CD fall to the floor, forgotten. It rolled across the floor and finally spun to a stop, settling in front of the lab door as it swung inward. Greg and Sara were totally oblivious to Grissom's presence until he cleared his throat.

"Ahem."

The two broke apart quickly, almost guiltily. Sara looked down with a hand on her lips, embarrassed to be caught making out by her boss.

"Can I…uh…can I help you, Grissom?" Greg asked, face slightly red.

"Yes. I came to check on my samples, but you're obviously working on something else." Grissom said with a hint of sarcasm.

"No, I finished them. I was uh…just getting ready to start on some swabs for Sara." Greg handed Grissom the printouts.

"Thank you, Greg. Sara, don't you have something you should be working on? The case, maybe?" If Greg didn't know better, he would have sworn that he heard a hint of jealousy in Grissom's voice.

Sara looked up at Grissom, a determined glint in her eye. "Actually, Grissom, I'm going to wait here for my results while Greg processes the samples. I've got the case covered. Thanks."

"You know, you two, this is not the place for a romantic tryst. If it had been Ecklie to catch the two of you, you'd probably be given your walking papers. Do…whatever…on your own time." Grissom's tone was uncharacteristically sharp.

As Grissom left, Sara turned to Greg, smacking him lightly on the chest with the back of her hand. "What were you thinking? In the middle of the lab, no less."

"I…I'm sorry…I just…I mean…" He was stuttering badly, clearly at a loss for words.

She smiled at him. _Adorable._ "Shut up, Sanders. I didn't say I didn't like it." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Dinner later?"

He grinned. "You bet."

C-S-I--C-S-I--

Sara set down the water glass. She absentmindedly traced designs on the frosty glass, chasing a drop of condensation as it winded its way down to the tablecloth. The remainder of their meal lay cold on their plates, for the most part untouched in favor of conversation. 24-hour diner food was not what one might consider quality cuisine.

"Well-"

"You know-"

They both laughed. Sara gestured at him, indicating that he should go on.

"I like you, Sara…a lot. And I think it could be more."

Sara nodded in agreement. He continued.

"I just…I know you used to have this thing for Grissom. And…let me finish," he said, holding his hand up as she started to protest, "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. All I want to know is, are you willing to give us a fair chance without bringing expectations into this relationship based on your previous ones? I don't want you to expect me to ignore your feelings like Grissom, or undervalue you, like Hank. I want you to give me a chance to surprise you with unexpected gifts just because, to listen to you when you have something to say, to comfort you when you're sad, and to make you feel like the most special woman in the world all of the time. Will you give me that chance?"

"Oh, Greg." Sara leaned forward, putting her hand on his cheek. "You are the best friend I've ever had. I can't imagine anyone I'd rather have as the most important person in my life. Whatever this is between us," she said, gesturing at herself and Greg, "I want to give it chance."

The huge grin on his face rivaled the glow of a 75 watt bulb. He gripped her hand and leaned forward. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better, Miss Sidle…much better."

"You know what, let's get out of here. Take a walk or something." Sara suggested. Greg nodded in agreement.

They'd been walking down the city street for maybe half an hour, his arm around her shoulders and hers resting comfortably around his waist. The sounds of the city in the middle of the night were muffled and soothing, and the streets were deserted.

Greg stopped suddenly, his shoe anchored to the ground. "Damn it!" He pulled hard, and his shoe was finally released with a _snap._ "Some drool-faced kid spit their gum on the sidewalk," he laughed, hopping on one foot.

Sara laughed at his goofy antics, and slowly meandered on. He stopped, pulling out his wallet and taking out a credit card to scrape the sticky residue off of the sole of his shoe.

"Sara, wait for me!" he half-yelled after her as she began to cross the street.

She turned around in the empty street to face him, walking slowly backwards. "Come on, you slowpoke," she teased.

Greg watched her fondly for a moment, then started after her.

All of a sudden the squealing of brakes cut through the air like a knife. Sara looked away from Greg into the headlights of the black sedan that had just sped around the corner and was now headed towards her. Her muscles froze, and she was unable to move.

Terror and adrenaline rushed through Greg's veins, and he began to run toward her, realizing with dread in his heart that his valiant effort to save her was going to be too late. At the last possible second he leapt off of the sidewalk toward her, but the car reached her first. It struck her, propelling her several feet out and to the side. Greg landed on the hood of the car. His head struck the windshield, cracking it, as the force rolled him over the roof of the car. He instantly lost consciousness, and fell limply off the back as the sedan sped away into the night.

* * *

TBC

Thanks for taking the time to read this. Sorry it started out so fluffy but I needed to establish a budding relationship between Sara and Greg. Now leave me lots of reviews!


	2. Revelations and Reflections

A/N: I've decided to take some creative license and give Gil Grissom a life. Before CSI, I mean, smarty pants. :-p When he was younger. I gave him a family. So if you haven't seen it on CSI, don't fret. I made it all up in my head. Muhahaha! Ok then. Here goes nothing…better known as chapter 2.

* * *

The guard slid the padded shipping envelope through the slot. 

"Hey, you. Package from home. Don't worry," he said, laughing, "we x-rayed it and there's no file. So don't get your hopes up."

Slater gave the guard a contemptible sneer as he reached over and picked up the envelope. He ripped it open, smiling in satisfaction as its contents were revealed.

"A toy cop car?" the guard asked, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "That's…interesting."

"It's from my 5 year-old son, you moron." Slater lied to the guard. He didn't have a son. He didn't have a wife either, for that matter.

He slid the toy under his mattress. It was going to come in very handy later on.

_

* * *

Ring. _

_Ring._

Gil Grissom set down the bulky_ Natural History of Mosquitoes _and picked up his cell phone. Flipping it open, he put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Gil, it's Brass."

"Jim, what are you doing calling at this hour? Is everything all right at the lab?"

"Yeah, everything fine at the lab. Listen, Gil, there's been an accident."

Those words suddenly brought back a long-buried memory, so powerful that for a moment he couldn't breathe.

_Ring._

_Ring._

"_L.A. County Coroner's Office."_

"_I'm calling for a Mr. Gilbert Grissom."_

"_This is he, may I ask who's calling?" 24-year-old Gil answered._

"_I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Grissom, but there's been an accident."_

"What kind of accident, Jim?"

"Gil, it's Sara and Sanders. They were victims of a hit and run about an hour ago. A patrolling cop found them lying in the street. They're on their way to Desert Palms now."

Grissom closed his eyes. "Brass, how bad is it?"

"Gil--it didn't look too good."

"Did anyone see what happened?"

"I doubt it. The street was deserted, but we were just about to start canvassing. Maybe we can come up with something. "

"You do that, Jim," Gil said, rising from his leather easy chair and grabbing his coat and keys. "I'm going to be at the hospital if you need me."

"Ok."

"And Jim?"

"Yeah, Gil?"

"Find the son of a bitch who's responsible for hurting my people."

"I'll do my best, Gil."

* * *

"You can take a seat in the waiting room, Mr. Grissom. You're listed by both Sara Side and Greg Sanders as one of their emergency contacts." The nurse pointed him in the direction of the seats. "Their doctors will be with you as soon as they're finished." 

"Thank you."

He sat down, strangely calm for someone who had just found out that two of his close colleagues, friends even, were in danger of losing their lives. He'd always responded to tragedy this way…well, not always. Just ever since that day. Thirty years ago.

He glanced around him, taking in his surroundings. The walls were white, sterile, and cold. Just how he felt.

"Well, hello." The tall blonde sat down beside him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Sofia." He acknowledged her presence with a half-hearted smile, but he appreciated her presence more than she knew. She was a true friend.

"I came as soon as I heard. How are you holding up?" she asked, concern evident in her eyes.

"I…am fine. I'm worried about Greg and Sara. The doctors are working on them now. They haven't told me anything yet."

"I'm sure that they'll be fine, Gil. They're both incredibly strong people. They're fighters." she said firmly.

"I know." His voice was so low she could barely hear him. "You know, she has the same eyes. Every time I look into them, I see Maris looking back at me. Sara is about the same age she would be if she were still alive."

He fell silent, but Sofia didn't push him to continue. She knew that he would tell her when he was ready. They sat in silence for a while, Grissom collecting his thoughts. He felt helpless again. Once again things were spinning out of his control, and it was a scary feeling. He cleared his throat, and then began to tell Sofia the story. It was a story that he had never told anyone else.

"_Sir, I regret to inform you that your wife Amanda and daughter Maris were in a car accident earlier this afternoon."_

"_What…what hospital were they taken to? I need to see them!" He was distraught. He couldn't think straight. _

"_Mr. Grissom…they weren't taken to a hospital."_

"_What do you mean? Why not? Aren't the medics doing their job?"_

"_I'm sorry, sir…they were pronounced dead on the scene."_

_Panic. "No…no! I can't…it can't be them. You're wrong." His voice was hoarse, and tears clouded his eyes. It was as if he was blind in a fog, and there was no way to escape it. "You have to be wrong. God…please."_

"She was only two years old." A tear slowly made its way down his face. "And now, when I look at Sara, sometimes I see her."

"So…that's why you look at her that way sometimes. The rumor going around the lab is that you're…jealous."

He nodded. "I know."

"Grissom…I'm so sorry. I had no idea about your family." She laid her hand on top of his.

"It's alright. No one else knows. You're the only one," he said, glancing up at her. "I try not to think about it. When I do, I feel…pain. Anger. Helplessness. And it's too much. I had to let it go a long time ago. It was the only way I could keep on going without them."

An hour passed, or maybe more. The two who sat in the small silent waiting room didn't note the passing of time, nor care. Why hurry something that never could and never will be hurried? They sat silently, content to be comforted each by the other's company and unspoken support for one another.

Then his phone rang. "Grissom."

"Hey, Gil, it's Jim. How are they?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that. They're still in the ER."

"Ok. Listen, I found a witness. Some junkie who was a little stoned at the time of the accident. He figured they were dead or just didn't give a damn, I guess, because he didn't report the accident. He couldn't say much about the car, expect that it was a black sedan, thought it might be a Ford. Anyway, he said the car hit Sara first. Greg must have been hanging back a little, because this guy says he never even saw him until he jumped to push her out of the way. He got to her too late. Oh yeah, this guy says that when Greg hit the windshield, it cracked. So my guys are gonna be on the lookout for a black sedan with a cracked windshield. I'm calling repair shops around that area."

"Good work, Jim."

"Excuse me, Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom looked up to see the nurse standing at the door. "Jim? I'm gonna have to call you back." He hung up, and looked up at the nurse. "Yes?"

"The doctors are ready for you. Come with me, please."

He and Sofia got up and followed the nurse out of the room.

"Mr. Grissom? I'm Dr. Brian."

"And I'm Dr. Preston."

He shook the proffered hands automatically. "How are they?" he asked, breathless.

"Well," Dr. Preston began, "I've been working on Miss Sidle. She's stable now. She has a broken leg and multiple contusions and abrasions."

"And Greg?"

"Mr. Sanders has a severe concussion. I'm afraid there has been some bleeding in his brain, but it doesn't appear to be too severe. We'll be able to tell you more when he wakes up."

"Is he in a coma?"

"Not really. We've given him a heavy sedative so he can rest and his brain can heal."

"When will he wake up?"

"Well, it's hard to say for sure, but I think I'd give him another 12 hours." The doctor said.

"Can I see them now?"

"Yes, you can see Miss Sidle now. She's awake and has been asking about Mr. Sanders. We haven't told her anything yet, just that you were here and would tell her everything."

"Thank you, doctor. I appreciate it."

"No problem."

* * *

Grissom stood in front of Sara's hospital room door, silently collecting himself for a moment. Then he went in. 

"Grissom? Where's Greg? No one will tell me. Is he ok?" Sara sounded scared, worried, and almost panicked. She was lying down in the hospital bed, one leg in a cast all the way up to her thigh.

"Greg is stable. He has a severe concussion but his doctor is very optimistic."

"What happened to him? The last thing I remember is staring into a pair of headlights."

"Well, according to a witness, you froze in the path of a speeding car. Greg jumped to push you out of the way, but he was too late."

"Oh my God." Sara looked shocked. "He'd stopped to scrape some gum off of his shoe. He was…forty feet behind me. There's no way he could have reached me in time. He had to know that. Why would he risk his life, knowing that?" A tear slid down her cheek.

Grissom shook his head. "Sara, you know Greg as well as I do. Even if he couldn't reach you in time, you should know that he at least had to try."

The tears began to come down in earnest. "It's all my fault, Grissom. I suggested we take a walk. I froze when I saw the headlight. I…froze. If I hadn't have done that…Greg would be fine right now."

Grissom gripped her hand. "Sara, listen to me. Greg will be fine. He will. I promise."

"I need to see him, Grissom."

He shook his head. "He's not awake yet. They won't even let me see him yet. And besides, you need to lie still and rest. Ok?"

The nurse came in with a syringe. "Time for me to leave?" Grissom asked her. She nodded.

"I'm just going to give you a mild sedative so you can sleep now. Ok?" the nurse asked Sara. Sara nodded in response.

Grissom leaned forward and wiped a tear from her face. "You go to sleep now, Sara. As soon as Greg is able to see visitors, you'll see him. I promise."

"Thank you, Grissom." she whispered as the nurse slid the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger.

The nurse turned to him. "You should go home and get some rest. Neither of them will be awake for a while. We'll call when they do wake up."

"Thank you."

* * *

Quite a few hours later, Grissom entered the lab, coming up behind Nick. "Nick, tell me what we've got." 

Nick swiveled around and looked up. "Oh, hey, Griss. We recovered some broken glass from the scene. I ran it. It's tempered, most likely from the windshield. Didn't get much else from it, except that it has Greg's blood on it."

Grissom nodded. "The witness said that his head cracked the windshield on impact."

"Sounds about right. Anyway, we got lucky with this," Nick said as he lifted a pair of jeans. "These are Greg's. I found some paint on the button. It must have dragged across the hood when he hit it, taking some paint with it."

"What does that tell us?"

"Well, I ran the paint, and it tells us that the car is a Ford Five Hundred. A 2005 model. That'll narrow your search a little."

Grissom shook his head. "We need more if we're going to crack this. What about traffic cameras?"

"Archie's on it." Nick said.

"Thanks. And thanks for covering this shift. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem," Nick said, turning back around. But Grissom was already out the door.

Grissom swung open the door to the A/V lab. "Archie, tell me you've got something."

"Well, that depends on what you mean by something." Archie made a few clicks with the mouse and brought up a camera feed. "The good news is that I located the sedan on the camera feed, and the streetlights were bright enough to get us a viable image. Here's the car at the intersection, seconds before it hits the two of them."

"What's the bad news?"

"Well, it's an individual omnidirectional camera. We can only see the car from the front. You never see the back of the car, so I couldn't get a license plate. And the car goes out of camera range before it hits Sara and Greg. I'm sorry."

Grissom leaned forward and squinted at the screen. "Archie, rewind it to the beginning and advance it frame by frame for me."

"Sure." Archie performed the requested task with a click of the mouse.

Grissom watched the screen closely. Almost as the car completed the turn, he spoke. "Stop there."

He pointed to a spot on a shop's window. "Zoom in right there and enhance that image." He leaned even closer as Archie cleaned up the image. "Will you look at that."

"What _is_ that?" Archie asked. "It looks like…letters. And numbers."

"That is a reflection of a license plate. It's a partial license number. Thank you, Archie. Good work." Grissom said as he headed out the door, taking out his cell phone. "Jim? It's Gil. I need you to run a partial license plate. A 2005 Ford Five Hundred. Part of the plate is 425J. Hold on…I have another call." He switched lines. "Grissom. Thank you." He switched lines again. "Brass? That was the hospital. Greg's awake."

* * *

TBC

* * *

:-p Ok. You have two choices. You can either send me some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, or leave me a review. Since I assume you'd rather not spend the $12.97 to overnight me some baked yummy goodness, just leave a review! Merci beaucoup. 


	3. Case Closed

Same disclaimers as before. Enjoy chapter 3 :-)

* * *

"The doctor said that Mr. Sanders will be fine. The intracranial bleeding has stopped and there doesn't appear to be any swelling. We're keeping him tonight for observation, but he can go home tomorrow. He need to take it easy for two or three days, just to be on the safe side. Now, for a few days, he'll need someone to stay with him and wake him up every couple of hours at night, just to make sure that there are no problems."

Grissom nodded. "I can arrange that."

"I'll do it." Sara said, her voice steely and resolved. "I did this to him. I'll take care of him. He can help me out during the day, and I'll take care of him at night."

Grissom thought it best not to argue at this point. She was too determined.

The nurse walked ahead of Grissom, holding open a door as he passed through, pushing Sara's wheelchair in front of him. Her hands were clinching the arms of the chair, and her knuckles were white. Concerned, he stopped and walked around to face her, squatting down so that he was at eye level with her. Her eyes looked tired, and he could tell she was as tense as a drum.

"Sara," he said seriously, "are you ok? Please, be honest with me. Because you don't look that way to me."

"Grissom, I am _fine,_" she said emphatically. "At least, I will be once I see Greg with my own eyes. I need to know that he's ok."

He looked into her eyes intently for a moment. "Alright. Let's go then." He rose from his squatting position and resumed pushing Sara down the hallway. "He's been asking about you, you know."

"He…he has?"

"He thought you were dead. The nurses told me that when he woke up, he started panicking, asking about you. They had to give him a mild sedative in order to calm him down, so he may be a little sleepy when we go in to see him."

"Didn't they tell him I was fine?" she asked.

"Yes. Apparently he didn't believe them and demanded to see you for himself. So, here we are."

They stopped in front of Greg's door. Sara looked through the glass window to see Greg's dozing form. Her eyes softened as she watched him, his eyes closed, and his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. Normally larger than life and vibrant, he now looked so vulnerable lying there. She steeled herself.

"Ok. I'm ready now," Sara said. Grissom nodded at the nurse, and she opened the door, holding it as they entered the room. Grissom pushed Sara over to the bed.

She leaned over and gently touched Greg on the shoulder. "Hey, Greg. It's me."

His eyelids fluttered as he woke up slowly, looking at her groggily. "Sara?"

"Yes, I'm here, Greg." She reached over and took his hand in hers.

"How…what...are you ok? I saw you get hit," he said, sounding a little dazed.

"I have a broken leg. That's it. Other than that, I'm fine. And doing a heck of a lot better than you are. How are you feeling? I've been so worried about you."

He gave a sleepy chuckle. "I think I'm high or something, with all these drugs they have me on. I'm not really feeling anything." He indicated the IV in his arm.

Sara smiled. "I bet you're liking that, Sanders," she said, gently brushing his messy hair from his forehead.

He grinned sleepily. "You bet. Hey, you know what I'd like even more?"

"What's that?"

He pointed to a spot on his cheek. "A kiss…right there. Or maybe here," he said, moving the finger to his lips.

She laughed, shaking her head, but even as she did, tears threatened. "Sanders, you're a pervert."

"Am not."

"Are too."

He noticed Grissom, standing silently in the shadows. "Hey, boss. Man, you look beat."

"Well hello to you, too, Greg." Grissom said wryly.

"So how long have I been in here?" Greg asked, automatically referring to his wristwatch, which, of course, wasn't there.

"About fourteen hours, more or less." Grissom stated.

"Oh my God." Greg looked shocked. "I can't believe I was out for that long." He was silent for a moment. "You know, I can't remember anything after Sara getting hit."

Grissom nodded. "That's common after a head injury. You're lucky you remember that much."

"So, have you guys been working on this case?"

"Mm hmm. We're close. I'm waiting on Brass to run a lead for me." Grissom's phone rang as he spoke. "That must be him now. Well, I'll leave the two of you to catch up. Greg, it's good to see you awake. Sara, don't stay too long. Both of you need your rest." And then he was gone.

Greg turned back to look at Sara. "So, did ya miss me?"

She nodded, leaning forward and gripping his hand harder. "More than you know, Greg."

A tear slipped down her cheek. He reached up with his other hand, wiping it away before it fell. "That much, huh? Maybe I should do this more often," he joked.

"Don't even joke about it, Greg," she said sharply. "I…don't think I could take it if you did this to me again. I won't lose you." She lowered his bed rail and rested her head on his shoulder.

"The same goes for you," he whispered into her hair. "Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw that car headed for you? My God, Sara, when I thought I lost you…I've never felt that way before…so hopeless."

"Well, it's all over now. And I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Never."

He grinned. "Not even…when I take a shower?" he joked.

"You forget so quickly, Greg. I've already seen you in the shower, remember?" She smiled.

"Now who's the pervert?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, grinning.

"Still you, Greggo. Oh, and did I mention that you're moving in with me for the next few days so I can keep an eye on you?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow, an offer to move in after just one date? I think that's a new Sanders record. Way to go, Greggo!" he said jokingly.

"In your dreams, Sanders." But her words were belied by the hand that clutched his tightly, as if she would never let go.

* * *

"This was the only Five Hundred in the Las Vegas area that matched the partial. Meet Brian Forbes," Brass said, indicating the man sitting on the other side of the glass. "I got a warrant for his car. Windshield's cracked, just like I thought it would be. There was some blood in the cracks. I've got DNA on it now. Results should be here soon."

"What do we know about this guy?" Grissom asked.

"Well, he's a 30 year old lawyer who married well up the food chain. His wife is a multi-million dollar heiress. Two year old kid. They're on their way over. That's about it. You ready to go in now?" Brass asked.

Grissom nodded. "Let's go."

As they entered the interrogation room, Brian Forbes rose. "I demand to know why you're holding me here. And what did you want with my car?" he asked sharply.

"Sit down, Mr. Forbes," Brass ordered. "I'm Detective Brass, LVPD. This is Gil Grissom. He's with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We have some questions for you." Flipping a file open, he slid two photos across the table. They were snapshots of Sara and Greg. "So tell me, Mr. Forbes, have you ever seen either of these two people? They are both CSIs with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Colleagues of Mr. Grissom here."

Forbes barely glanced at the photos in front of him before quickly responding. "Charming, but no. I've never seen either of them before."

Brass chuckled, but it was a laugh without mirth. "Are you sure? Look again for me. Maybe you saw them. Maybe last night. Think hard."

"I don't _need_ to look again. I already said I hadn't seen them. Are you deaf as well as stupid?" the suspect said caustically.

"Now, now," Brass said, "no need for rudeness here. I'm just asking you a couple of questions." He took a different tack. "Can you tell me what happened to the windshield of your car? I noticed that it was cracked."

"I was driving back from a fishing trip at the family cabin last night. I hit a deer." he said, defiantly.

"A fishing trip, eh? There didn't happen to be anyone with you who could verify your story, right?" Brass asked.

"No," Forbes said firmly, "I was alone."

Catherine entered the room, tossing a file folder down on the table. She didn't leave right away, but stood there, staring at Forbes coldly and impassively.

"You said you hit a deer last night…correct?" Grissom asked offhandedly as he opened the file. He flipped through the pages.

"I already said that I did. You must be as deaf as your cop friend here." Forbes said sarcastically.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure I understand your version of last night's events."

"Like I told you, that's exactly what happened." He reiterated strongly.

"You're a liar," Catherine interjected coldly, "Show him what you've got, Gil."

Grissom slid two photographs across the table. "These are photographs of your vehicle. See that?" he pointed to a purplish glowing smear across the windshield. "That's blood. Human blood, not deer blood." He slid a printout across the table. "And that's a DNA analysis of the blood. It belongs to Greg Sanders," he said as he pulled Greg's photo out from under the pile of papers and slammed it down on top of the printout. He pulled out another printout. "This is paint collected from Greg's clothing. It's a match to your vehicle." He pulled another photo from the file in front of him. "See that? That's your car at the intersection where they were hit, at the same time they were hit. And here's part of your license plate caught by a reflection in a shop window. "

Brian Forbes stared at the damning evidence in front of him. He looked shocked, guilty, and totally deflated.

"Do you care to revise your statement?" Brass asked. "Oh, and you might need a lawyer. Oh, that's right…you are a lawyer. Good luck defending yourself against this evidence. By the way, your wife's here. I'm bringing her in. She wants to see you."

Forbes looked up in alarm. "No! You can't tell her any of this. I'll tell you everything!"

Brass shook his head. "Looks like we already know everything. Sorry. That's two counts of fleeing the scene of an accident that inflicted injuries. Five years for each count. Looks like you'll be spending the next ten years in jail."

"Wait--It was an accident." His voice was hoarse with desperation. "I didn't mean to hit them! I was at the cabin, but I was spending the night with…with a friend. My wife called to say that she took an earlier flight and was coming in that night, so I jumped in my car to drive back. She couldn't find out…we have a prenuptial agreement. If I cheat and she finds out, I lose everything in a divorce. I couldn't let that happen. I was speeding and couldn't stop in time. Please…don't tell my wife! I'll give you whatever you want. How much? Just name a price, and it's yours!"

Catherine laughed. "You've got to be kidding me! Hey, Brass, what would you call a good bribe for a cop?"

"Oh, I don't know…one doughnut, maybe two." Brass deadpanned. "Brian Forbes, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right…"

"I'm a lawyer. I'm well aware of my rights," Forbes interrupted.

"Oh, good for you," Brass said, "then I hope you'll take full advantage of all of them. Get up. I'm taking you to lockup." Brass escorted the protesting man out of the interrogation room. "I thought you knew you rights. You obviously forgot the one that tells you that you can shut your mouth."

Catherine turned to Grissom after the door shut. "Good work, Grissom. You really closed that case fast."

"Well, I guess it makes a difference when you have a personal interest vested in the case." he replied.

"So, you got to see Greg at the hospital earlier, huh? How was he?" she asked, her concern evident.

"The doctors tell me he'll be able to go home tomorrow. In a couple of days, he should be as good as new."

"And Sara?"

"Sara will be off her feet for a little longer, because of her broken leg."

"Well, thank God it's nothing worse." Catherine sighed. "They're two very lucky young people. By the way, what were the two of them doing out together?" Her brow creased as she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I think they're going out," Grissom said.

Her eyebrows shot up even higher. "This must be a new development, because I hadn't heard anything about it…and you know how fast news goes around the lab. Wow. Are you ok with this?" she asked, looking scrutinizing at Grissom.

"Of course I am," he replied, "why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know…no reason I guess." She shrugged. "Does Ecklie know?"

Grissom shook his head. "No, and as long the relationship doesn't interfere with their work, he doesn't need too."

"Well, you're right about that. That man..." she shook her head. "Well, I've stayed a bit later than usual. I should get home to Linds. See you later, Griss. Don't work too hard, now."

"You know I always do."

* * *

Slater flushed his epilepsy medication down the toilet. Then he laid down on the cold cement floor. He knew that a guard would be by on his regular round in less that 5 minutes.

One CSI was going to be very sorry.

Slater was glad that he didn't have a cellmate. _One of the perks of being on death row,_ he thought ironically. No one around to see his plan and spill the beans. Picking up the toy cop car, he held it in front of his face and switched it on. The lights on the top of the toy car began to flash like a small strobe light. As they did so, the electrons controlling the nerve cells in the brain were disrupted, in effect short circuiting his brain, and he began to seize violently.

TBC

* * *

Many, many thanks to everyone for their reviews so far! They are very encouraging! Please keep reviewing!

Jenn Sidle: I love Sara and Greg together too. You should write a Sandle fic!

jessielou: I'm glad you like the start and the end. You didn't like the middle? cries j/k :-p

wow: it took me a long time to read all of the "infinitlies". lol thanks for the review.

Unlikely-to-bear-it: Thanks for the metaphorical cookies! They were yummy :-D Sorry about the cliffies but somehow they usually end up happening. It's just weird. Lol/

NothingButSarah: here's your update, as requested. I'm good like that :-D

Csiarkie: Thanks. I just love Sandle fluff. Hehe.

CatStokes: Here's more! I try not to be TOOOO evil. Muhahaha!

Kelly: Yay! A TobyMac fan! W00T!

Tripp3235: Yes, someone will die. But who? Not telling! I haven't decided if it will be an original character or one of the team.

CSIwannabe: W00T! Another TobyMac fan! That particular song ("ILL-M-I") sounded like one Greggo might like.

Sciencenerd: Thanks! I'm glad you think it's wonderful. Your reviews are wonderful!

CSIsupergirl2011: I don't think I'm going to kill Greg. I have too much of a hard time forgiving other fanfic writers who kill Greg.

Angw: New Zealand? How cool! Anyway, it's the thought that counts! I do have small Catherine and Nicky reactions, but the focus is more on Griss and Sara and Greg this story.

CSI Kennedy: Thanks! I think Sandle is a cute name for them too :-D

racing fox: Now you know what happens next! Let me know what you think!

Surfreida: Diverse City is one of the best CDs ever. Seriously. Yay for lots of TobyMac fans! Thanks for the reviews :-D


	4. New Love, Threats, and Blue Hawaiian

A/N: Now the plot kicks into action! Muhahaha.

* * *

Nick followed Sara and Greg up to the doorway of her apartment, carrying Greg's overnight bag. "Where do you want this, Greggo?" he asked.

"Just toss it by the couch, man." Greg replied as he fished the keys out of Sara's purse and opened the door. Sara, now on crutches, tried to maneuver though the doorway, but the stoop proved to be more than a match for her. One crutch caught on it and she tripped, beginning to tip forward.

"Whoa there," Greg cautioned as he reached forward, catching her arm and steadying her. "You ok?"

"I'm fine," she said roughly, slightly embarrassed at nearly landing on her face. "I'm just not used to these yet, is all."

"You know, I think I got the better end of the deal," he said jokingly as he helped her through the doorway, "I think me on crutches would be just slightly less destructive than a Category 5 hurricane. You'd have to put up the china."

"Yeah, you know, you just lost a few hundred thousand brain cells. I'll take my broken leg over that any day," she joked back.

"You know, I already had an overabundance of brain cells. What's a few hundred thousand?" He grinned.

"Well, you can't really miss what you never had in the first place," she joked, making her way over to the couch.

"Ohhhhh," Greg groaned, clutching his chest in mock hurt as he helped Sara sit down on the couch. "You're too clever for me, Sara. There's just no comeback for something like that."

"Now, now, children," Nick said, plopping Greg's bag down beside the couch, "fighting already? I'm not going to have to pull you two off each other, am I?"

Greg and Sara made eye contact, and it was all the two of them could do not to burst out laughing. Sara pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

"What? What's funny?" Nick asked, clueless.

Sara cleared her throat, wiping the smile off her face. "Nothing's funny. Nobody's laughing. You're so paranoid, Nicky!"

Nick looked from one to the other suspiciously. "Well, you guys enjoy your little inside jokes. I gotta get going. You two behave, you hear? And call if you need anything. I mean it."

"Wellll…some Vanilla Caramel Fudge sounds really good about now…"

"Yeah," Nick scoffed, "nice try, Greggo."

* * *

It was 11 o'clock in the evening, and Grissom walked into the break room. The small television in the corner was on with the volume turned low, and Grissom picked up the remote to turn it off. But what he saw displayed across the bottom of the screen stunned him. He squinted at the tiny screen through his glasses.

_Death Row Inmate Escapes,_it read across the bottom of the screen. Frowning, he turned up the volume. "…are looking into the circumstances of the escape of a death row inmate a short time ago. Tobias Slater was en route to a hospital after suffering a severe epileptic episode. He was being transported under guard in an ambulance when he managed to escape. The LVPD have not released any information regarding the escape, but a source tells us that he may have had help. Slater, scheduled to be executed in a few months, was convicted 6 years ago for killing his wife and her infant son in a rage when he discovered that his wife had been conducting an affair, and the child was not his." Slater's all too familiar mug shot flashed across the screen. "If you see this man, please call Crime Stoppers immediately at 702-385-5555. Reporting for KVBC 3, I'm Steve Crupi." _Click._ The screen flickered off, going dark, and Grissom set down the remote. He got up, heading for the file room. He was going to spend the next few hours going over Slater's old case files.

* * *

"Greg! Hold still. Good grief, it's like you're 10 years old!" Sara said, as she tried unsuccessfully to keep a wiggling Greg still.

"I can't help it! I don't like needles," he whined.

"Neither do I. But the nurse told me to give this to you before bed and that's what I'm doing, if it's the last thing I do. Now _stop…moving._" He was still for a moment and Sara took advantage, slipping the needle in and depressing the plunger, releasing the anti-inflammatory that would prevent any swelling in his brain.

"There! Was that so hard? You probably didn't even feel it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one getting jabbed with needles repeatedly here!"

"Well, it was only a few times," Sara said guiltily. "And only because you wouldn't stand still and let me find a vein." Greg interrupted her with a wide yawn. "Sleepy? Me too. Let's go to bed."

"I guess I'll take the couch," he yawned.

Sara scoffed at that idea. "And what am I going to do? Hobble out of bed on my crutches every two hours to check on you? _That's_ going to happen," she said sarcastically. "No. We sleep in the same bed." Seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes, she hurried to quash it. "We sleep on opposite sides, no touching. That's the rule. Got it?"

"Oh, I got it, all right," he grinned, "but the real question is, can you keep your hands off of me the whole night?"

"Oh, I'll manage, Greg."

_

* * *

Ring._

"Grissom."

"Hey Gil, it's Brass…Listen, I guess you've heard about Slater by now."

"Yes. I'm refreshing my memory about the case now, going over some old evidence in the case. I have to say, the evidence is very conclusive."

"Yeah, the jury thought so too. You know, he threatened you."

"Yes, I remember. In open court, after the jury passed the sentence. He was angry at me for putting him away. Your point?"

"Angry? That's an understatement. My point is, he could be coming after you. It's not uncommon for escaped convicts to seek revenge after escaping. I'm concerned, that's all." Brass said.

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but I think that I'll be fine. I usually am pretty careful." Grissom refused to let the threat of this criminal shake him.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your case files. Just remember what I said, ok? You can never be too careful."

"Alright. Thanks, Jim. I appreciate the heads up."

* * *

"No. I can't help you out with this one. I owed you one, so I helped you escape, but I'm drawing the line at murder. It's been years, and I got a family now, man. If something would happen I'd get sent away for life. Who'd take care of my kids then?"

Slater was mad. His only ally, the one person he trusted, the man who'd been his best friend for years, was backing out on him. "You know how much I need to do this, Will. I don't have anyone else who I can trust to help me. You're it."

Will shook his head. "I'm sorry, man. If it were just me…"

Slater's arm rose and fire blazed from the handgun he held, muffled by the silencer attached to the end of the shiny barrel. Will slumped to the ground, killed instantly by a bullet in the brain.

"Yes. And now it's just me."

* * *

The alarm beeped insistently from the bedside table. Sara looked over at the LED display. _4 am,_ it read. She groped blindly in the dark and slammed her hand down on the button that would shut it up. Suddenly realizing that she was feeling an unaccustomed weight on her, she felt around in the dark. Greg's arm was around her waist, thrown there unconsciously as he lay sleeping. Sara, usually one to shy away from physical contact, found his touch strangely comfortable and comforting. _Nice._ That's how it felt. "Greg," she whispered, shaking him gently on the shoulder. His only response at first was a low groan. Wiggling to turn around under his arm, she leaned over and planted a butterfly kiss on his neck. Without opening his eyes, he said, "Now if you keep on doing that, I might wake up eventually."

She smiled that crooked half-smile at him as he cracked an eyelid at her. "Come on, now," she coaxed, "open 'em both for me." As he sleepily complied, she clicked on the small flashlight beside the bed and quickly checked both pupils for reactivity. Satisfied, she switched the flashlight off.

"Do I pass the test, Doc?" he teased.

Curling up against his chest and pulling the covers around her, she closed her eyes and nodded. "Now shut up so I can get some sleep around here."

_

* * *

Three days later…_

Greg was putting the finishing touches on his hair when a knock came on the bathroom door. "Greg? Get out of there already! I need to take a bath."

Opening the door with a flourish, he grinned at the slightly annoyed Sara. "All yours, ma'am."

She hopped into the bathroom on one foot.

"Remember what the doc said? No getting the cast wet, now." he cautioned.

"I remember. But thanks anyway." Pausing for a moment, she turned to him. "Are you sure you're ready to go back to work, Greg? I mean, there's no rush. Griss said you should take as much time as you need."

"And I did, Sar. I promise you, I am now in perfect health. You have absolutely nothing to worry about," he assured her.

"Well, just take it easy, ok? Stay in the lab. No field work for you tonight. Got it?"

He nodded, yawning wide. "Man, it's going to take me a while to get used to working at night, instead of sleeping. I wonder if my coffee stash is still safe?"

"Oh…about the coffee…" she began.

He raised his eyebrows. "What about it?"

She grinned mischievously. "Now that we're kind of a couple, you'll have to share the coffee. Secret stash location, please?"

He groaned. "I knew it was all too good to be true. You're with me for my coffee, aren't you?"

* * *

A few hours later, Greg stood in the lab, sorting out various unidentifiable objects collected from an arson case. He was separating them into three categories: plastics, metals, and who the hell knew what. The ringing of his phone interrupted his work, and he slipped of his soot covered latex gloves before fishing around for it. Not recognizing the number on the called ID display, he answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, Greg Sanders." The voice on the other end was cold and strange. Almost ominous.

"Yeah, and who's this?" Greg asked suspiciously.

"My name is unnecessary for you to know at the moment. All you need to know right now is that a package will be coming for you in a few minutes. You will sign for it, take it, and open it alone."

Greg was in disbelief. _What a crazy whacko._ "No, you know what? I hope you enjoyed your little prank call, I'm hanging up now. Goodbye."

"Wait." That one word was so chilling that Greg slowly put the phone back to his ear. "I think you had better do what I say if you ever want to see Sara again. Well, see her alive, anyway." A sadistic chuckle was followed by a beep, telling Greg that they'd been disconnected.

TBC

* * *

dun dUN DUN! Please review. Please please please? It's soooo easy...just hit the lil button over on the bottom left of the screen.

racingfox: I know, Greg and Sara make one of the best looking couples ever. They're just soooo perfect.

Surfrieda: I try to write fast...but sometimes the plot bunny just doesn't hop all that fast. I feed it carrots when it slows down, though.

Unlikely-to-bear-it: Goldfish? Eeeee! Realizes she has real Goldfish instead of virtual ones in the kitchen and makes a run for them

sciencenerd: I'm glad you liked the last one. Hope this one's up to par as well!

toxicat: I've spent the last hour or so going over pics...What? obsessed? me? ha!

Jenn Sidle: Thank you so much! What a fantastic compliment. Real and like the show is exactly what I was going for. Of course, I wish the show would give us Sandle moments from time to time.


	5. Cold, Hard Steel

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except the original character Tobias Slater, that is. I'm not really proud of the fact that I own him. He's kind of nasty and I don't like him very much. He's definitely no prize.

A/N: The song is "This is How a Heart Breaks" by Rob Thomas. I highly recommend the CD.

Warning: There is a teeny-tiny bit of rough language in this chapter. The subject matter warranted it.

* * *

Greg stared blankly at the pile of evidence that lay before him, his mind no longer on his case. He'd tried Sara's apartment phone dozens of times, .her cell, her pager, and all went unanswered. His mind was almost frozen in shock, fear, rage. He didn't know what to think. What to do. He couldn't think straight. He needed to clear his head…clear his thoughts…maybe this was all a bad dream. _Maybe…_ He needed to find her. He had to. He grabbed his keys. Maybe she was still at her apartment. But the voice on the phone had told him to wait. He hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation, his pager buzzed. It was the front desk. He hurried down there, walking rapidly. "You paged?" he asked Judy, the receptionist.

She nodded, indicating a man standing over to one side of the room. "He asked to see you. Said he had a delivery only you could sign for."

"Thanks." Greg walked over to the man cautiously, who turned around to greet him. He wore a delivery uniform.

"Greg Sanders?"

"Yes?" he asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"I have a special delivery for you. You need to sign for it." The delivery man held out a clipboard, indicating the location for Greg's signature with an x.

Taking the proffered clipboard, Greg quickly signed his name and accepted the package. Turning it over, he analyzed it from every angle. Whatever its contents, they were encased in a plain bubble wrap mailer. A printed sticker with his name and the lab's address was the only adornment on the outside. He felt it gingerly as he carried it back to the room where he'd been processing evidence earlier.

He sat down, and felt the package, but hesitated before opening it. He knew he should tell someone. Grissom. But he couldn't make himself. Not when Sara's life could depend on his silence. He had to find out what this bastard wanted first.

He looked around, quickly analyzing his surroundings. The lab walls were made of glass. Anyone could walk by at any time and see what was happening. The voice had told him to open it when he was alone. He could take no chances. _The roof._ Taking the package, he headed up.

Crouching down on the roof, he gingerly began to open the package. No telling what was inside. Taking out his pocketknife, he slit the side of the package open. Pulling the sides apart, he carefully looked inside. _A cell phone?_ Greg would have sooner expected a bomb. He pulled the phone out of the packaging and looked it over. Suddenly it rang, startling him, and he dropped the phone. Chasing after it with a curse, he prayed it was unbroken. And then it rang again. He answered it.

"What do you want?"

"Well, that's no kind of greeting. Hello to you to, 'Greggo'. That's what they call you, isn't it? Cute."

"What do you want? And why would you send me a cell phone?"

"Do you think I'm stupid, Sanders? The cell phone you're holding is untraceable, as is mine. I don't trust you. That's why I sent you a cell phone."

"You say you have Sara? Yeah? Let me talk to her. I want to talk to her _now._" Greg said, desperation in his voice.

"I'll do you one better, loverboy."

The phone beeped in Greg's ear, and he pulled it away, looking at the screen. _Would you like to receive the jpeg file?_ the screen read. He pushed the "accept" button. As the photo loaded, he recognized her instantly. It was a close-up of Sara's face, her mouth gagged and a gun to her temple. Her eyes were wide, scared. But still defiant. The sight of her like that sent an arrow straight through Greg's heart. He couldn't even imagine what she must be going through. He put the phone back to his ear. "What do you want with her, you bastard?" he said with as much hate as he could muster.

"Now, now, Greg. Is that any way to talk to the man who could put a bullet in the head of your girlfriend, ending her life at any moment?" Silence. "I didn't think so." Greg could hear a gun cocking.

More silence. Greg struggled to compose himself.

"Stop," he whispered.

"Now, are you ready to listen to me?"

Greg shut his eyes, fighting tears. "Yes. Just don't hurt her. Please."

"Since you've proven yourself capable of following instructions this far, I have some more for you. In about five minutes, you will receive another delivery. This time it will be a police officer delivering an evidence bag for you. Don't worry, he doesn't know what's in it. And he'd better not find out. As far as he's concerned, he's making a routine evidence drop off. And it had better stay that way. If you try to involve the police, she dies."

The man hung up, and Greg sat, hugging his knees, trembling.

_Don't you wanna go for a ride  
Just keep your hands inside  
And make the most out of life  
Now don't you take it for granted_

Five minutes later, he received another page. It startled him. He hurried down to the front desk. Judy, the receptionist, looked up at him with a cheery smile. "You're popular today. Another delivery for you. It's not your birthday, is it?"

He shook his head. A uniformed officer approached him. "You Greg Sanders?"

"Yes," he replied shortly.

"I've got some evidence here for you to log in. Sign here." Greg quickly signed and accepted the sealed evidence bag.

He took it back up to the roof. Opened it with trembling hands. It was a gun. Greg was confused. Was this the right package? _What the hell am I gonna do with a gun?_

_Ring. _

He wanted so badly to ignore it. But he couldn't.

"Hello?"

"I assume you gotten the second delivery by now?"

"Yes. And what the hell do you expect me to do with a gun?" Greg asked.

He laughed sardonically. "What does anyone do with a gun? I want you to kill someone, of course."

Greg shook his head in disbelief. "What…how…are you out of your fucking mind?" he asked incredulously. "That's…I'm not going to murder someone for you, you sick son of a bitch!"

"Oh, I think you will."

No. No way. There was no way that this was happening. "Not a chance."

"Listen to me _very carefully,_ Sanders. If you do not do as I say to the letter, I can promise you that you will never see your girlfriend alive again. Do you really want to be responsible for her death?"

Greg closed his eyes, but a tear slipped out nonetheless.

_Life is like a mean machine  
It made a mess outta me  
It left me caught between  
Like an angry dream I was stranded  
_

"Are you ready to do what I ask you?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "The gun has exactly one bullet. You are going to put that bullet into Gil Grissom's head."

"I'm not going to kill my boss! Grissom has been nothing but good to me. He's taught me everything about this job. No!"

"Let me ask you this, Sanders. Who means more to you? Grissom, or Sara? It's up to you. You're the one making the choice. You can choose not to kill him, and condemn her to death, or, you can choose to save her life by ending his."

"Why? Why do you want him dead?"

Silence.

"Are you still there? Say something!" Greg said, rage rising up in him, threatening to boil over.

"Gil Grissom…he's the one who put me in jail. He put me on death row. And now he's going to be the one to die." The man on the phone paused, growing irritated.

"Now, enough of this! If Gil Grissom's murder isn't the lead story on the morning news, you can kiss your little girlfriend goodbye. I will mail her to you in pieces, Sanders. Do you think I'm kidding? Just try me. You know, I've been in prison for a very long time. She's a pretty girl. Maybe I'll have my fun with her before I kill her."

"You so much as lay a hand on her, and I swear I will make you pay!" Greg raged.

"You will do as I say and kill Grissom. Oh, and when you look into his eyes and pull the trigger, Sanders, tell him it's from Slater. I want him to know why he's dying." And with those last words, he was gone.

_I'm steady but I'm starting to shake  
And I don't know how much more I can take_

It felt like hours. Greg, tormented beyond belief by the choice he was going to have to make, felt as if his head was going to explode from the pressure, or at least cave in. At least, if that happened, he would be out of his misery. He wouldn't have to make the deadly decision that now lay before him.

He picked up the gun, halfheartedly considering putting the cold hard steel muzzle to his temple, and then put it down again. What would that solve? Nothing. That wouldn't change the fact that Sara would die. Why couldn't it be between her or himself? Greg would have laid down his own life for hers in an instant. But this just wasn't that simple. _God…oh God, what do I do? Where do I go from here? _he cried out silently.

And once again, he picked up the gun.

* * *

Grissom looked up from the never ending stack of paperwork that lay on his desk, ever vying for his attention.

"Well hello, Greg. Can I help you with something?"

When Greg didn't respond, Grissom squinted at him, scrutinizing the young CSI. "You know, Greg, you don't look so well. You know, I should have insisted that you take another couple of days off after the accident. You should go home and get some rest-" he stopped abruptly.

What he saw didn't register right away, and when it did, he thought for a moment that he was in a suspended reality. What he saw couldn't be real. How could it, when what he thought he saw was Greg, holding a gun on him. He was having trouble believing what his eyes told him.

"Greg…what are you doing? Put that away."

Greg's whole body was shaking, and tears were streaming down his face. He tried to say something, but he couldn't get it out at first.

_This is it now  
Everybody get down  
This is all I can take  
This is how a heart breaks_

"Greg? What's wrong? Just put down the gun and talk to me." Grissom said reasonably, trying to keep Greg calm and keep himself calm at the same time.

"I…I can't…Grissom…" he said, his voice raspy, trembling even harder. "I'm sorry, Grissom."

_You take a hit now, you feel it break down  
Make you stay wide awake  
This is how a heart breaks_

"Why not? Just talk to me, Greg. You can tell me. Whatever it is, I promise I will understand. Just help me understand what's going through your head right now. Please, put the gun down so we can discuss this calmly."

_And I'm sorry but it's not a mistake  
And I'm running but you're getting away  
_

"I can't," he whispered, "he's going to kill Sara unless I do this."

Suddenly it all came together with a startling rush, and Grissom understood everything. "My God," he breathed. "It's him, isn't it, Greg? It's Slater. He wants you to kill me. He has Sara, doesn't he? Doesn't he, Greg?"

Greg didn't answer, but Grissom saw the truth in his eyes.

"Greg, it doesn't have to happen this way. We can work this out and stop this without anyone getting hurt. I give you my word."

Greg only shook harder, unable to speak, only shaking his head.

Grissom got up from his seat behind the desk, and walked slowly forward, hand outstretched. "Greg…son, just give me the gun. It doesn't have to be this way."

_This is it now  
Everybody get down  
This is all I can take  
This is how a heart breaks  
_

"I'm so sorry," Greg sobbed, as his fingers tightened on the trigger. "But it does."

_You take a hit now, you feel it break down  
Make you stay wide awake  
This is how a heart breaks_

TBC

* * *

I'll just apologize in advance for my evilness in giving you yet another cliffhanger. I hope you can forgive me enough to keep reading my story. I really appreciate your reviews! They have been so inspiring and just keep me writing when sometimes I don't feel like it! So please keep reviewing!

Unlikely-to-bear-it: First cookies and then goldfish and now ice cream? It's all a plot to make me fat! LOL.

Lalenna: Thanks for the review! I take that as a very high compliment...I do try to go for a more different feel to my stories. Hope you enjoyed this last update...and the cliffhanger ending! Muhahaha!

oypoodle: I am so glad you like it! Thanks for the review!

sciencenerd: drumroll please...and here you go! An update as requested!

Jenn Sidle: I hope that this update came soon enough to save you from going crazy. If not, see you in the loony bin! LOL.

saraluver: You may not find out Sara's fate for the next couple of chapters. I promise nothing! Muahaha. Oh my Gosh. It's true. I AM evil.

taz3: Thanks for the lovely review! Hope you liked this chapter as well!

NothingButSarah: Thanks for both of your reviews! Here's a secret...don't tell...I would never kill Greg. Ever. He's safe.

Duckie24: You are in no way a dork, because I did indeed analyze screencaps until I discovered the Ben and Jerry's flavor. I just had to throw that in there. Couldn't help it. I'm delighted that you noticed!


	6. Breakdown

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, I only own the original characters to appear in this, previous, and following chapters.

Spoilers: Grave Danger. Nicky managed to work his way into this chapter and the rest of the story quite a bit. I'm still trying to figure out how he got into my story! LOL.

Pairing: Sandle

Rating: T+ for miniscule amounts of coarse language.

* * *

Grissom slowly advanced on Greg, reaching out his hand, as much in a gesture of support as an effort to take the gun. Suddenly the door swung open, and Nick sauntered in with a pile of papers. "Hey, Griss. Hey, Greg. Am I interr-" 

Greg, startled, swung around quickly, bringing the gun to bear on Nick. "Whoa there!" Nick jumped back a step and held up a hand. "What's goin' on, man?" Nick asked in confusion.

"Nick, you're not…supposed to be here…Get out!" Greg gestured for Nick to leave with the trembling gun.

Grissom took another step forward. Greg swung back around, once again bringing the gun to bear on Grissom.

Nick didn't understand the situation, but still he did sense the danger Grissom was in. He quickly tried to get Greg's attention on anything else but Grissom, quietly walking forward until he was at Greg's side. He laid his hand softly on Greg's shoulder. "Come on, Greggo. This is not like you." He gently pulled Greg around to face him. He'd never seen Greg like this. Ever. Trembling, sobbing, emotionally wrecked. It brought back powerful memories of his own. Memories of his own fragile emotional state when he'd been buried in a box underground. Memories of when he had almost been the one to pull the trigger.

"Greg, I don't know why you're doing this, but I know exactly how you're feeling right now. But I couldn't pull that trigger, and neither can you. Whatever it is, you have all of us here with you to help you work it out." Nick struggled against tears for a moment, and then just let them fall freely. "We all love you, Greg. And we'll all stick together to protect you, no matter what. You've been like a little brother to me, and I'll do whatever it takes to make things right. Do you understand that?" He gently laid his hand over Greg's on the gun. "Please, just let it go, Greg." The gun dropped from Greg's rigid, trembling hand, clattering to the floor with a cold, heavy, empty metallic sound.

With that over, Greg's body, which had been under immense stress, gave out, and his knees buckled. The strong Texan was there instantly, catching him and gently lowering him to a sitting position on the ground. He knelt next to Greg and slid the gun across the floor to Grissom, who picked it up and quickly removed the clip.

Nick, kneeling next to Greg, pulled his sobbing friend's head to his shoulder and just let Greg cry there. "It's ok, Greg. I'm here for you." He put his arms around Greg's shaking shoulders and just held him in silent support. He looked around at Grissom for an explanation. "What's going on, Griss?" he asked quietly, a hitch in his voice. "I've never seen him like this before."

Grissom squatted next to Nick and spoke quietly into the Texan's ear. "Sara has been kidnapped-"

"Oh my God!" Nick interjected. "Is she ok…who would…"

"She was kidnapped by someone who wants me dead," Grissom finished, "I imagine that Greg was told that it was me or her. He didn't think he had a choice."

* * *

It was many minutes later when Greg finally began to calm down and catch his breath. Nick just sat quietly, not pressuring him, just offering him silent support. Greg finally drew in a shuddering breath. He turned and faced Grissom. "I'm so sorry, Grissom," he said, his voice hoarse and raw with emotion, "but he told he would kill Sara unless I did what he asked, and I didn't know what else to do. And now she's going to die." His eyes began to cloud with tears again, and he struggled to compose himself. Nick gripped his shoulder tightly.

"Greg, I need to know everything," Grissom said. "Anything you can tell me would help. We need to find Sara before…before anything bad happens. I know this man Slater, and the second he knew that I was dead, he would have killed her. So anything you can give us that would help us locate him would be crucial."

Greg indicated the gun that lay on Grissom's desk. "He sent that to me in a sealed evidence bag." Then he pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. "He had this delivered to me so I couldn't trace his calls. He said it was an untraceable line."

Grissom took the cell phone and looked it over. "Well, what he says and what is actually the case may be two different things altogether. I'm going to have Archie take a look at this."

"I'll help," Greg said, beginning to rise from his sitting position on the ground unsteadily, lurching off balance. "Whoa there, G," Nick said, quickly helping his friend up, steadying him.

Greg addressed Grissom. "I'll run trace on the phone, the gun, and the packaging," he offered. "Let me swab the phone before you give it to Archie, Grissom. There may be something on these things that could lead us to where he's keeping her."

"Greg, I'm not so sure that it's a good idea for you to do the lab work," Grissom said gently, "you've been through a lot, and I can imagine that your stress levels are through the roof. When people are stressed, they make mistakes."

"Well, I don't trust Hodges with this and I'll get it done a lot faster that he will. I'm not going to make any mistakes," Greg said with determination. "He…he said that unless your murder was all over the morning news, he was going to kill her." He gave an involuntary shudder. "We have until 5 am."

"Well, then we need to find a way for you to murder me," Grissom said, "and we need to do it soon."

"I know a guy who works over at the FBI, Las Vegas Field Division," Nick volunteered, "I'll make a couple calls and see if I can get his team down here for this. This falls under their jurisdiction anyway, since it's a kidnapping."

"We don't have a minute to waste, Nicky," Grissom said, "we need to find her and find her fast."

"I'm on it, Griss," Nick said, pulling out his cell phone and heading out the door.

_

* * *

1:04 am. _

Greg set several items down on the counter in the trace lab. The cell phone, the gun, the gun's ammunition clip, the evidence bag, and the bubble wrap mailer. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves and began going over the evidence. He picked up the cell phone and dusted for prints, lifting off a few that he hoped were not all his.

"What's going on here?" Greg recognized Hodges' voice.

"I'm going over some evidence for trace," Greg said shortly.

"Excuse me, but if there's trace evidence to run around here, I will do it. This is my lab." Hodges sounded outraged. When Greg ignored him, he grew angry and reached over Greg's shoulder, grabbing the cell phone. "You don't even have this stuff logged in evidence bags," he said, gesturing with the phone. "What kind of CSI are you-"

Hodges' rant was cut off in mid sentence as Greg whirled angrily to face him, grabbing by the front of his shirt and lifting the shorter man a few inches off the ground.

"This is_ my_ evidence in _my_ case, and _I_ will be the one to run it. If you so much as breathe on it again without my permission, I'll throw you out of this lab headfirst. Do you understand?" Greg growled angrily.

The look of shock and fear on Hodges' face was answer enough. If Greg had not been angry enough to spit, he probably would have enjoyed Hodges' discomfort more.

"Greg, put the man down," Grissom said from the doorway, fighting an urge to laugh. Greg obediently eased Hodges back down to the ground, grabbing the cell phone from the man's gloved hand. Stumbling backwards, the trace technician backed away from Greg, regarding him with a new fear and respect.

"Did you just see what happened?" Hodges asked Grissom in outrage.

"Yes," Grissom replied mildly.

"And you're not going to do anything? Is there something in the water? He just physically assaulted me! Not to mention he's taking over my lab!"

"Hodges, this lab is Greg's as long as he needs it. Your trace samples can wait. This is far more important," Grissom explained patiently. "Go take a break."

Without answering, the angry Hodges stormed out of the lab.

"He seems a little angry. Did he seem mad to you?" Grissom asked, somewhat humorously.

"Just a little," Greg replied. "Just give me a minute to swab this phone, and it's all yours, Grissom." He began to swab the phone, and then paused for a moment, looking up at Grissom. "We've got about 4 hours. Do you think we'll find her in time, Grissom?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion.

Grissom looked at him for a moment before replying. "We're going to try like hell, Greg."

_

* * *

1:49 am. _

"Hey, Griss, this is my buddy Mark Brady. He's with the FBI Las Vegas Field Division."

"Hello, Agent Brady," Grissom held out his hand, scrutinizing the field agent. Fairly young, but honest and responsible looking.

"Please, Mark is fine. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Grissom," the agent said, firmly shaking the proffered hand. "This is my team. Agent Patricks, Agent Ramon, and Agent Reuben. We're all at your service."

"I've given Mark the basics, but he needs to talk to Greg. Every detail counts," Nick said, ushering the group toward the trace lab.

"Greg, can we have a minute?"

Greg looked up from the computer. "Sure, Grissom. What is it?"

"Greg, this is Agent Brady from the FBI. He needs the hear the whole story."

So Greg began to tell the whole story, as painful as it was. He began with the phone call to his cell phone, told them about getting the two packages, showed them the picture that he'd been sent of Sara with a gun to her head. He recounted every bit of dialogue from the calls that he could remember. He told them about the command to kill Grissom. By the time he finished describing the second phone call, he was trembling with exhaustion that was both physical and emotional.

"So what did you do after that?" Agent Brady asked.

Grissom interrupted. "Greg brought this information straight to me. Isn't that right, Nick?"

Nick nodded firmly, corroborating Grissom. "Yep. That's right. I called you, and now you have the whole story."

Brady's eyes narrowed, and he turned to Nick. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Nick?" he asked.

"Sure," Nick said, as Mark accompanied him out into the hallway.

"Are you telling me everything in there? Because I'm kind of getting the feeling that a lot more went on here than you're letting on. I'm an investigator too, Nick, and I can tell when someone knows more than they're telling. You're hiding something."

"Mark, what you heard in there is exactly what happened," Nick said decisively. "And that's all I'm saying."

"Well, as long as whatever it is that happened isn't relevant to this investigation…"

"And it's not," Nick said, determined to protect his friend. "I give you my word."

"Ok, then. That's good enough for me, Nick." Mark clapped him on the shoulder.

"Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it."

"Now, come on. We've got a lot to do and not much time. I've got an idea and it just may work…"

TBC

* * *

Lalaenna: So sorry for the cliffy! I understand your pain. I hope your day today is much better! 

CSIwannabe: Now you know the _rest_ of the story...or at least part of it, lol. Thanks for your faithful readership!

Duckie24: And here I thought that I had the corner on obsession! lol.

Surfrieda: Thanks for helping me out with that pesky plot bunny. Sometimes he just won't sit still!

sciencenerd: Why, thank you! I tried to dial down on the cliffy ending angle this chapter.

crookedpen: All that worrying for nothing! Griss is safe and sound!

LocoGreggo: Great minds do indeed think alike! How fun.

Jenn Sidle: Don't go crazy, Jenn! Here's your update, right here. I do hope that it came soon enough.

kegel: A new record for evilness, eh? Guess that takes me out of the running for that Nobel Peace Prize. My life is ruined! hehe.

NothingButSarah: There! Grissom is alive and well! But someone is still going to bite the dust...Muhahahaha!

Unlikely-to-bear-it: Sadly, yes. Never trust brothers. Just don't. (Chrissy chucks carrrot in the garbage and eats ice cream anyway...cuz who cares!) lol


	7. Following the Trail of Crumbs

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, but I own the original characters depicted herein. --LOL...Watching CSI has affected my language...I use more lofty words to describe things nowadays...I'm hopless. LOL.

Pairing: Sandle

Rating: T+

_

* * *

2:52 am. _

"Well, this is what I've gotten from the cell phone. Here," Archie said, typing busily, "is the jpeg file sent from your suspect's phone to the phone he sent Greg." He swiveled around in his chair to face the small group of FBI agents and CSIs gathered to observe what he had been working on. "I'm going to simplify my explanation, for time's sake," he said, turning back around to the computer and typing away.

"Basically, a cellular phone is a small radio transmitter," Archie explained, "Cell service areas are divided into areas, called, what else, cells. When a call is made, the signal travels from cell to cell, until a connection is made with the line they're calling. Now, usually a call, text message, or photo transmission can be traced back from cell area to cell area, using the phone's Electronic Serial Number. But in this case, the ESN was scrambled by a 16 bit encryption on the cell phone. The encryption encodes the data, rendering it untraceable by the phone company's computer systems."

Archie paused for a moment, savoring the pièce de résistance.

"But…" Grissom prompted.

"But," Archie continued triumphantly, "using a decryption program, I was able to retrace the path the transmission took. We're lucky this guy was an amateur, and didn't use a random revolving encryption on the phone. I was able to narrow the call area to here," he pulled up a grid map and indicated an area. "The photo transmission originated somewhere in Henderson, between Boulder Highway, Eastern Avenue, and I-215, about 6 miles from downtown Vegas. Wish I could narrow it further for you, but that's the best I've got."

"That's a help, nonetheless, Archie," Grissom said. "How are the trace samples coming along, Greg?"

"The results should be printing out any minute now, Grissom. I'm going to go check on them," Greg replied.

"I'll come with you." Grissom began to follow Greg, but he was stopped by Agent Brady.

"Mr. Grissom, I'm going to need you for about an hour or so." He pulled Grissom into the hallway. "I've got a makeup artist. She just got here, and she's going to need to work on you. Meanwhile, I've got a connection over at KVBC. Once you are officially dead, I'll give them a call and your murder will be the top story on the morning news."

"Well, I guess we'd better get started making me look dead, then," Grissom said.

_

* * *

3:08 am. _

Greg quickly looked over the trace reports. He tossed most of them aside, but one caught his interest. He scrutinized the report carefully, then went to the computer and began typing away.

"Whatcha got, Greg? Anything significant show up in the trace reports?" Nick asked, walking into the lab.

"I think I found something. A carpet fiber attached to the evidence tape on the gun bag."

"Can you find out where it came from?" Nick asked.

"Well, it's industrial carpeting, but the color and textile strength is pretty common. I'm running a search on it now to identify the specific brand and type. Then I'm going to compile a list including all businesses where it was installed, cross referencing with the other trace elements I collected," Greg said, willing the computer's database search to move faster.

"What else did you find that was of relevance to the case?" Nick asked.

"Well, I picked up a strong carpet cleaning solution from the carpet fiber. Commonly used for cleaning carpets in hotels." Greg perused the reports. "Not much else."

_

* * *

3:38 am. _

_Ring._

_Ring._

Greg looked at his pager. "A/V STAT," the blinking screen readout said. He hurried down the hall, barreling into the Audio/Visual lab. "What is it?" he asked Archie.

Then he heard it. His eyes widened. There was that familiar pang of fear.

_Ring._

Agent Brady rushed through the door. He quickly grabbed a pair of headphones as Archie connected the cell phone to the computer, allowing him to eavesdrop on the call. Brady gestured to Greg to answer the call.

"Hello?" Greg answered the phone cautiously.

"Sanders. So tell me, has the deed been done?"

Greg looked at Agent Brady, who shook his head, indicating that Greg should tell the man no. "I…I'm still trying to work up the nerve. I've never shot at anyone before, much less tried to kill them."

"Well, if you want to see Sara alive again, you'll do more than try. The clock is ticking, Sanders, and your opportunity is slipping away."

"Let me talk to Sara…please? I want to know that she's ok. I need to speak to her," Greg said desperately. There was silence on the line for a few moments, and Greg feared that Slater would hang up. But when he heard shuffling on the other end, his heart gave a leap of hope, and when he heard her voice, the relief was almost too great.

"Greg?" she whispered.

"Sara. Oh my God." Greg shut his eyes, and tears burned at his lids. "Are you ok? Has he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Greg. Listen to me. You can't do what he's asking you to do. You can't kill Grissom--wait…no!" Her voice escalated into a scream and Greg's heart dropped.

"Sara! What's going on?"

"No! Let me go-" her voice was suddenly muffled.

Slater came back on the line. "You've talked to her long enough. She's fine…for now. I'm counting on you to finish the job, Sanders. And so is she. I want Grissom dead. Like I said before, Sanders, the clock is ticking."

The line went dead. Archie looked up, removing the headphones. "We lost the signal. He hung up."

Brady sighed. "Well, at least we know he's still on task and that she's still alive. We still have time to pull this off if we can find him. The minute he finds out that you've killed Grissom, he may try to get rid of her. We've got no time to waste, because we can't take that chance."

_

* * *

4:20 am. _

_Beep, beep._

The list was done. Greg snatched the sheet as it rolled out of the lab's printer.

"What have we got?" asked Nick.

"Well, the carpet is a Templeton Mills industrial model. Color is T-700 Mohave/Desert Sand. It looks like this specific carpet color was only installed in two locations in this area. The first is Caesar's Entertainment."

"Yeah, that's a hotel and casino, but it's on the Strip. Outside the call location that Archie gave us," Nick pointed out, "so that's out."

"Oh my God," Greg breathed, "we have our location. I know where she is."

"Well, where?" Nick asked excitedly.

"Holiday Inn Express, Henderson, Nevada. It's the only place that this carpeting was installed inside the call area."

"Good job, G. Let's get going then," Nick said.

_

* * *

4:25 am. _

"All right, let's move out!" Brady ordered to his team. "Agent Patrick, you'll stay behind and handle the media coverage. You need to make sure that the report is as realistic as possible." As he turned to leave, Greg cornered the agent.

"I'm coming with you," Greg said adamantly.

"What? No, you're not. You're not an FBI agent," Brady returned, just as adamantly.

"Look, I'm the one who broke this case for you. I've taken weapons handling training and I have my certification, if you're worried that I can't take care of myself. I can. And you're not leaving here without me." Greg said, the determination in his voice evident. He was not going to be left behind. Of that, he was sure.

"Or me," Nick appeared at Greg's side, backing him up. "I'm coming too. Look, Mark, we don't have any time to waste. We can argue about this later."

Brady, conflicted, paused for a moment before finally giving in. "Ok, but you're going to let me and my agents handle this, ok? I want you both to stay out of the way."

"You got it," Nick agreed, "Now let's get outta here and catch that son of a bitch before he hurts Sara."

_

* * *

4:34 am. _

The FBI makeup artist applied the finishing touches to the prosthetic bullet hole in Grissom's forehead, carefully applying the fake blood.

"I bet that this line of work is interesting, isn't it? This is probably not the strangest case you've ever worked." Grissom said to her, gesturing at his forehead.

She laughed. "Some of the cases I've helped on make this one look like an everyday, normal thing. I'd elaborate, but…" she handed him a small mirror, "I'd have to kill you." She chuckled at the old cliché.

He examined his forehead in the mirror. "It almost makes me believe it. Now let's just hope that someone else does, too."

_

* * *

4:41 am. _

"Have you seen this man? He's an escaped felon, and we have reason to believe that he is a guest in your hotel. Most likely registered under an alias." Agent Brady slid Slater's mug shot across the front desk.

The hotel desk clerk looked at the photo, and shook her head. "I'm sorry. Do you have any idea what time he may have checked in?"

"It would have been between 9pm and 12am," Greg said.

"What makes you think he's a guest at this hotel?" the clerk asked.

"Well, I found a carpet fiber that is unique to this hotel in Henderson," Greg answered.

"What color was it?" she asked.

"Tan with a green diamond overlay pattern," Greg replied. "Why?"

"Well, we installed a different color carpet on each of our floors. The carpet color you described is only in the rooms on our fourth floor," she explained.

"Good. That will narrow our search," Brady said. "Ma'am," he said to the clerk, "I know we don't have a warrant yet, but is there any way we can look through your computer system and find out who may have checked into a room on the fourth floor in our time frame?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. If you had a warrant…"

"Now," Brady said, raising his hand against her objection, "this man is an escaped felon, and he's holding a CSI hostage. He's planning to kill her. Now, unless you'd like me to knock on every single door and wake up all of your guests on the fourth floor at this early hour, you'll give us access to your systems. I'm trying to prevent a murder here. If we fail, do you really want all of that bad publicity? Do you think anyone would want to stay here, knowing that a girl was murdered here?"

She looked around nervously, then nodded. "Ok. Go ahead. Just don't disturb any more of our guests than you have to. Please. I could lose my job over this," she implored.

No one noticed that Greg had disappeared.

_TBC_

* * *

Lalenna: I hope this update makes your day a little brighter! Even though it is a little bit cliffy. 

CSIsupergirl2011: Thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying it. And no...I could never kill Greg...don't tell!

luminosoestrella: I didn't use to be much of a Nicky fan, but he's growing on me. I'm pretty fond of him...he's a sweetie.

CSIwannabe: Yes...I had fun figuring out how Grissom was going to die...Muahaha!

sciencenerd: Thank you...thank you very much...I hope this chapter is as enjoyable as the rest has been for you!

Unlikely-to-bear-it: Whipped cream and ice cream? Add hot fudge and I'll die of happiness!

Surfredia: I appreciate your help with the plot bunny! As you can see by the speed of my update, your method is spot-on! LOL.

Jenn Sidle: Thank you, thank you, and thank you! You are way too sweet!

taz3: Yes...I agree...Greg angst makes for good fanfics.


	8. Fade Out

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, the TV show. I do own the original characters that appear in this story.

Pairing: Sandle

Rating: T

_

* * *

_

_4:43 am._

Grissom carefully lowered himself to the floor of his office and laid his head in the pool of fake blood.

"Ok, now lay still and don't move," Agent Patrick ordered the supine man, holding out her camera phone, "play dead for me."

"As you wish, Agent Patrick," he said, following her order. He shut his eyes and his pose became stiff and deathlike. The tall, middle aged blonde woman carefully framed the shot with her camera, and then snapped a couple of pictures. She reviewed them meticulously, then snapped the phone shut. "Ok, that does it, Mr. Grissom. You're now officially dead. Good job, by the way. You were very convincing."

Grissom got up from the floor, fake blood dripping down his face. "Well, I suppose a lifetime of looking at death can wear off on you after a while. And please, call me Gil." He put a finger in the blood on his face and sniffed it. "What is this? Corn syrup and red dye?"

She nodded. "It is, indeed, Gil. Looks as good as the real thing, doesn't it? Well, you can go get cleaned up. I'll go email these photos anonymously to the news station. The reporters are all outside, and I've got to make a statement for the cameras shortly. Then Las Vegas will think you're dead, so I think you'd better hang out here until we have Slater in custody. You know what they say…"

"That the only safe man is a dead man?"

"Well, I was going to say safe is better than sorry," she laughed, "but that works too, I guess." She began to leave, but then turned around. "By the way…you can call me Dana."

He watched her retreating figure, then smiled to himself.

_

* * *

4:45 am._

Greg dashed frantically down the hallway, quickly scanning the doors as he ran by. Finally seeing the one he was looking for, he halted in front of the door, marked _Security_, panting for a moment with his hands resting on his knees. Then, opening the door, he burst into the room.

The gray haired security guard, seated in front of a row of television monitors, fell out of his chair. He struggled to his feet, bleary eyed and obviously woken from his sleep. "Who are you? What do you want?" he asked, his hand hovering over his gun.

"Whoa there," Greg panted, holding up a hand, "I'm a CSI. See," he said, indicating his badge, "it says so right here. I'm a Crime Scene Investigator with the LVPD."

The guard held out his hand. "Lemme see that."

Greg handed it to him. The guard squinted down at it, looking down at it and then back up at Greg. "Well, I guess you are. What are doing here at this time of the night?"

Greg thought for a moment. _Who in their right mind is gonna believe my story? _He thought about it for a moment, then prayed that he would be believed. "Did you see the news story about the escaped felon who murdered his wife and her kid?" The guard nodded. "Well, he's kidnapped my girlfriend and he's going to kill her soon if I don't find him. I need your help. Please." Greg hoped the raw desperation in his voice would convince this guard to help him.

The guard's eyes narrowed. "That sounds a little farfetched, young fella. How do I know you're telling me the truth? Sounds just a little shady to me. I'm not gonna fall for a prank." He stood up. "I think you should leave."

Greg shut his eyes in disbelief. After everything that had happened, after all that he had been through, he was going to be thwarted now in his attempts to save Sara? Putting his hands in his pockets, he turned around dejectedly. _Maybe Brady and Nick have found something by now. _He was almost to the door when his hand came in contact with something that he'd forgotten was there. He turned around, and walked back to the guard.

"What do you want now?" The old guard said in annoyance.

"I have proof that I'm telling the truth," Greg said desperately. "I'll show you!"

The guard narrowed his eyes. "Well, let's see it then," he said sarcastically, "I can't wait. This should be good-" He was cut off short by the sight of the shiny object that Greg pulled out of his pocket. His hands slowly rose. "Well, I guess that's pretty conclusive proof," he said ironically, eyeing the gun pointed at his head.

Greg had pocketed the piece, replacing the ammunition clip before leaving the lab…just in case. For the second time in one night, he was threatening someone's life. Strangely, this time he was not trembling. _I'm going to need therapy when this is all over, _he thought with cynical humor. He gestured towards the security camera monitors. "I need to see the tapes from about 9pm to 12 am. Just the fourth floor. Where are the tapes?"

"There are no tapes. The data from the video feeds is compressed and stored on the hard drive. I can replay it for you from here. Just…don't shoot." The guard leaned over the keyboard and booted up the fourth floor feed from the hard drive to the playback monitor. Greg pulled a copy of Slater's mug shot from his jacket. "This is the guy I need to find," he said, setting it down beside the keyboard.

He spent precious minutes watching the security feed, fast forwarding through the spots without activity, and pausing every time an individual walked by. The process was seemingly endless, and Greg agonized over the time he was losing. _He could be killing her now, holding the gun to her head now, and I'm here…so close, but so far…_

_

* * *

4:57 am._

"Look here." The guard's voice brought him out of his unbearable thoughts. "That's him right there," he pointed to a figure on the screen, zooming in on the man. "I seen him on the news. And that must be your girl, right there." He indicated an unconscious figure the man was pushing in a wheelchair. "Is your girlfriend's leg broken?"

"Yes," Greg said numbly. "It's them. What room are they going in?"

"Looks like…hmm…436. Guess your story was right after all, young fella," he said, turning around to face Greg. But he was gone.

_

* * *

4:58 am._

As the hotel clerk read off the names, one of the agents, Reubens, quickly looked them up on his laptop, wirelessly connected to the FBI's database. Name after name came up clean, with nothing out of the ordinary. "Nope, this one's clean too." Brady looked agitated. "We're running out of time here. How many more names?"

"Just a dozen or so," the clerk said.

"Let's hurry. This guy's for real," Brady said, looking at his watch. "He'll kill her in an instant if he suspects anything out of the ordinary with the news report, and he may kill her anyway, even if he thinks Grissom's dead. We're out of time."

"Wait," Reubens said, holding up a hand, "I may have something."

"Well, what is it?" Brady asked impatiently.

"That last name…Miguel Fernandez, he reported his wallet stolen yesterday. Are you thinking what I am?"

"Stolen credit cards. It's Slater, without a doubt," Brady said. Addressing the hotel clerk, he asked, "Miguel Fernandez. What room number?"

"436," she replied.

"Guys…"

"What is it, Nick? We've got to move out."

"It's Greg. He's gone."

_

* * *

5:00 am._

"Good morning, you're watching KVBC's morning news report. I'm Kim Capozzo. We have some breaking news. One of the Las Vegas Crime Lab's most prominent CSIs has been found, shot to death in his own office. We're going now to Stacy Escalante, live at the crime lab. Stacy, what can you tell us about this shocking murder?"

"Well, Kim, we've been told that night shift supervisor Gil Grissom was shot and killed in his office earlier this morning. We are told by the FBI agents investigating this case that they do have a suspect, but have not been able to uncover a motive thus far in the investigation. The suspect is another of the crime lab's employees, CSI level 1 Gregory Sanders, who the FBI tell us has not yet been apprehended."

"Stacy, we'll get back to you in a moment, but I've just been told that we have been sent photographs of the crime scene from an anonymous witness. Please be warned, these photographs are fairly graphic." As she spoke, the photos of Grissom flashed across the screen.

Sara's eyes filled with tears as she shook her head in disbelief. She sobbed against the gag that was covering her mouth. She didn't want to believe that Greg could do such a thing, but there was the evidence, displayed so brutally across the television screen.

Slater was watching the screen with satisfaction clearly displayed across his face. He turned to Sara, a smirk on his face. "Well, I guess I misjudged your boyfriend. I didn't think he'd have to balls to kill Grissom."

She glared at him with all of the hate that she could muster through her tears.

"Now, is that any way to be looking at me? It's almost as if you despise me." He walked over to her and put his hand on her cheek. She tried to shrink away from his poisonous touch. "Now that Sanders has done what I needed, I really don't have much use for you. Maybe I'll have a little bit of fun with you before I kill you."

He was leaning down as if to kiss her when the door burst open with an ear shattering _boom._ Sara could have cried from relief when she saw Greg standing there, holding a gun on Slater. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Her relief was cut short, however, when she felt the cold steel of a gun press against her temple. _No…this can't…no… _Tears came, and she couldn't stop them.

"Slater," Greg said commandingly, "it's all over for you. You need to put the gun down and let her go." He watched Slater's gun hand carefully for the slightest indication that he might pull the trigger. _I need to get that gun off of Sara… _His mind was in a whirl, frantically trying to figure out how best to distract the gunman.

"See, you're not the smartest page in the book, Sanders, because I don't think you clearly understand the situation. You put down your gun, or I shoot your girlfriend." He drove the barrel against Sara's temple for emphasis, and she winced in pain.

"You're the one who doesn't understand this situation. The FBI is here, and you have no chance of getting out of here alive unless you put the gun down, Slater." As if on cue, the squad of FBI agents, decked out in combat gear, appeared behind him, guns drawn.

"Sanders, stand down _now,"_ Agent Brady hissed from behind him. "Slater, put the gun down."

Determined that he would not be stopped, Greg took several steps into the hotel room, steadily holding the gun on Slater.

"You brought the Feds into this, Sanders? That was your first mistake…and her last."

"Wait!" Greg was desperately trying to keep that trigger finger from moving. "Slater, do you see this gun I'm holding? Recognize it?"

"Sanders, get out of there. Now!" Brady said between clenched teeth. Greg ignored him. Slater squinted at the hand gun, scrutinizing it. "Yeah, that's the gun I sent you to kill Grissom. So?"

"Do you remember how many bullets were in it?" A drop of sweat slowly made its way down Greg's face.

"Yeah. Once again…who cares?"

"Guess what? I still have one bullet left."

Greg's meaning suddenly dawned on Slater, and realized that he had been betrayed. "You little son of a bitch!" he screamed, raising his gun from Sara to point it at Greg.

Greg sent up a quick prayer of thankfulness. That was exactly what he had hoped Slater would do. Praying for a true aim, he took the window of opportunity that presented itself like a shining beacon of hope. He took the chance, and squeezed the trigger. Slater realized what was happening a split second before Greg's bullet hit him in the forehead, and discharged his gun as his reflexes caused him to jerk. He fell back, dead.

Greg stumbled backward. He didn't even realize that he was hit, until his knees gave out suddenly, without any explanation. He looked down slowly and saw the blood, pumping down his shirt, spattering out over the tan and green carpet that had lead them here, staining it crimson. _Is that my blood? It can't be all mine._ He vaguely heard shouting, but couldn't make out what was being said. It didn't matter, anyway. _She's safe. That's the only thing that matters. _He heard her screaming against the gag in her mouth.

The last thing he saw was Sara's face, covered by the blood spatter from Slater's head wound. Their eyes connected for a split second. Then everything around him dimmed, and he collapsed to the floor.

_TBC._

* * *

Yes, I know. I'm evil, leaving it like that. Please review! Everyone's reviews are greatly appreciated. I love you all and thank you for your inspiring reviews!

Jenn Sidle: Well, I've finally answered your question about Sara. I was going to leave it hanging but then I got your review...I just couldn't do that to you! lol.

Lalenna: Yes, I suppose he might get hurt...and he did! I suppose I could have kept him safe, but where's the fun in that?

CSIwannabe: Thank you! I'm very flattered. I'm glad the story keeps your interest!

kegel: Yeah, I do tend to write faster when I get more reviews. Not only do they motive me to write faster, but more often. Sometimes I'll be goofing off on the internet, get a review, and be like, "Hmmm...I want to write some more Sandle fic!" LOL.

NothingButSarah: I know I said I wouldn't kill Greg off, but that doesn't mean I can't put him in danger. Muhaha! I have been updating this story really fast. This is, without a doubt, the fastest I've ever written a fic. Woohoo for Sandle!

mellowyellow36: Yes, I do love some angsty Greg. Actually, I'm pretty much like you. I love Greg all the time. Woohoo for Greg! or "Sex on legs" as I heard him referred to today...LOL.

sciencenerd: The end is near...very near...you won't have to wait very long to see how it finishes! And then there'll be a sequel, if there is enough interest, and maybe even if there isn't.

Unlikely-to-bear-it: If you ever find that fudge, keep it away from me, because I would die from pure happiness and then I couldn't finish the story. LOL.

Surfredia: LOL. I think you've been too much of a help. Pesky lil plot bunny won't leave me alone now!

MaxiePowers: I'm glad you're liking it so far. I didn't mean to get you stuck to your computer screen though...lol.

Lorency: Yes, and I'm glad to say that he finally got his revenge. Nasty Slater is now dead! Ha. That's what he gets for being a bad guy.


	9. To the Ends of the Earth, Babe

Disclaimer: The only things I own are the plot and the original characters. Everything else belongs to CBS…yes, even Greg.

Pairing: Sandle

Song: All That I Am, Rob Thomas. Don't own that, either. Just borrowing.

Rating: T

* * *

Everything happened so quickly. Too quickly. The motions seemed like a blur, until Slater's warm blood sprayed her in the face, and she saw Greg fall to the ground, stunned and bleeding.

_I am the one winged bird for flying  
Sinking quickly to the ground_

Time seemed to pause, and then go forward in a blur of slow motion, with each moment more painstaking than the last. She strained against the bonds holding her arms to the arms of the wheelchair, scraping the skin from her wrists, but she didn't feel the pain that followed. Screaming into the cloth that gagged her, she began sobbing as she watched Greg collapse to the floor. _Grissom's dead, not Greg too…_she thought, screaminghysterically.

One of the faceless FBI agents was at her side in a moment, loosening the ropes and pulling the gag away. She lurched forward and stumbled to her knees on the rough carpet, kneeling next to him. She heard someone screaming into their radio for the paramedics.

She took his face in her hands, willing him to open his eyes. "Greg!" she sobbed, but received no response. She pulled him to her, cradling his head against her chest.

_I am the sound of love's arriving, echoed softly on the sand  
Lay your head upon my shoulder, lay your hand within my hand  
I give you all that I am_

Nick knelt beside her, ripping Greg's shirt open, trying to staunch the flow of blood. More capable hands quickly pushed the two of them aside, as the paramedics who had been waiting downstairs finally arrived. She clenched Greg's unresponsive hand between both of her own, barely able to see his face through her tears.

_And I breathe where you breathe  
Let me stand where you stand  
With all that I am_

Voices floated around her, weirdly disembodied and faintly muffled. _"Compression on the axillary artery…"_

_I am the white dove for a soldier  
Ever marching as to war_

"_BP and stats are dropping…"_

_I would give my life to save you  
I stand guarding at your door  
I give you all that I am_

"_Clamp the axillary…do it now…he going to bleed out."_

_I am the one winged bird for flying  
Sinking quickly to the ground  
_

"_I don't have a pulse…shit...V-Tach...charging…"_

_And I breathe so you breathe  
Let me stand so you'll stand  
With all that I am  
_

One of the paramedics pulled her away from Greg roughly, but not unkindly.

"_Clear…"_

Nick sat for a moment, staring in shock at his hands, covered in his friends blood. Looking up slowly, he saw Sara sobbing hysterically, and was at her side in an instant. He enveloped her in his arms and held her as she cried uncontrollably into his shoulder, unable to watch as the paramedics shocked Greg in an attempt to restart his heart. For an endless moment they comforted each other through tears, fearing his death was near, not wanting to believe it, but not daring to hope for anything else…

"_Clear…"_

Another jolt of electricity surged through Greg, making his body go rigid for a moment, arching back, and then falling limply and unceremoniously back to the ground.

"_We got it…sinus rhythm...Let's get him in the bus now…on three…one…two…three…" _The medics hoisted Greg up onto a stretcher and wheeled him quickly out of the room. Their voices slowly faded down the hall, and the events of the past few minutes could have been the figments of their imaginations, save for the pool of blood where Greg had laid moments earlier ,and Slater's still form, eyes frozen wide open in death.

Save for the faint sobs that escaped Sara, the room was quiet, stunned into silence.

Agent Brady was the first to move. Taking a blanket from the hotel bed, he knelt next to Sara and gently placed it around her shaking shoulders. "We should get her to the hospital and get her checked out," Brady said quietly to Nick, who nodded and began helping her to her feet. With Brady on one side and Nick on the other, they slowly made their way out of the room.

Some of the guests, hearing the shouts and the shots, were curiously looking out of their room doors. Brady motioned them back with his badge, shouting, "FBI! Get back to your rooms, now!" Taking the elevator down to the ground level, they found LVPD S.W.A.T. backup on the way up. One of the cops approached Brady and identified himself as the sergeant in charge. "What's our situation up there?"

"Suspect is dead," Brady said, continuing out of the lobby, "secure the perimeter andcontact the ME and Crime Lab."

"You got it."

The two men helped her into the black SUV and began the drive to the hospital. Sara's tears had dried, and she was impassively staring out the window, watching the dawning sun break over the skyline with unseeing eyes. _This can't be happening._ She felt as if every ounce of hope had been drained from her body.

Nick's phone rang. "Hello? Yeah, Sara's fine…" He lowered his voice. "Greg…he got shot. It looked bad…meet us as the hospital, Griss." He snapped his cell phone shut and slid it in his pocket. He glanced at Sara and saw her looking at him in shock.

"What?" he asked self-consciously.

She just stared at him for a moment. "Nick…Grissom is dead. I saw it on the news. Greg…Greg…" she couldn't get out the words. _Greg shot him. Greg killed him._

Nick's eyes widened in shock and realization. "Sara…oh my God! Nobody told you?"

"Told me what?" she snapped, very upset and very, very confused.

"Sara, it was all a set up. Grissom's very much alive. We had to make it look like Greg had killed Grissom to give us a little more time to find you. None of it was real."

"You're lying," Sara said bitterly, tears stinging her eyes once again. "I _saw_ him. Dead."

Nick leaned toward her and looked into her eyes earnestly. "Sara, I've never lied to you before, and I'm not lying now."

She saw the truth reflected in his eyes. The tears came once again, but this time they were tears of relief. Nick slipped his jacket off, slid it around her shoulders, and held her close.

* * *

Screeching to a halt in front of the ambulance bay, the paramedics wasted no time in getting Greg from the ambulance, quickly flinging the bus door open and unloading the stretcher.

"Grissom!" Sara, unmindful of the nurse's objections, slid off of the edge of the hospital bed as she spotted her supervisor in the doorway. She limped over to meet him and hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're here. I thought you were dead…"

"I'm here, safe and sound, and so are you, thanks to Greg. Agent Brady tells me that he saved your life," Grissom said, giving Sara his shoulder to balance herself.

She nodded. "I'm positive of that. I've never seen him like that, Griss. He was…"

"He was protecting someone he loves very much," Grissom finished for her.

Her lips trembled. "I'm praying that it hasn't been at the cost of his own life. Do you think…maybe it'll help? Prayer, I mean?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Grissom cocked his head to one side with a slight smile on his face. "You never know. I think it might."

* * *

"Hypervolemic from a shoulder wound; the bullet ruptured the left subclavian axilla. We couldn't palp a BP, he's hypotensive, and his pulse is weak and thready. We intubated, applied pressure, and started a liter of saline," one of the paramedics recited to the ER doctor. "He crashed in the field and then once again on the bus, we got him back with the defib."

"BP's 60 palp," a nurse said quickly, "I'm putting in another liter of saline. Pulse up to 80."

Dr. Bryan looked down at Greg as he was wheeled into the ER. "I know this guy. I treated him for emergency head trauma about a week ago." The surgeon turned to one of the nurses. "Pull the medical file for a Greg Sanders. Do it quickly," he said urgently. He turned to an orderly. "We need to get his hemoglobin concentration up, now. Find out his blood type and get me 10 units, just to be on the safe side. He's lost a lot of blood."

"You're here for Greg Sanders, aren't you?" Bryan addressed the three completely exhausted CSIs who were sitting disconsolately in the waiting room more than a few hours later.

"Is he ok? Please tell me he's alive," Sara said desperately.

Dr. Bryan nodded. "He's out of surgery. I repaired the penetrating trauma to the axillary artery with a saphenous vein graft. The axilla vein was also damaged, so I transected and grafted it as well. He was hypotensive throughout the surgery, but we finally got his BP stabilized with aggressive red blood cell transfusions. He's one lucky guy. The paramedics responded quickly enough to keep him from bleeding out, got him here in time, the surgery went without a hitch, and his recovery should be speedy."

Sara nearly collapsed from relief, glad that she had the support of two strong friends beside her.

"So…he's going to be ok?" Nick asked, almost unable to believe the incredible news.

"Barring any complications from the surgery, yes." Bryan nodded. "Like I said…one lucky guy."

"Thanks for the good news, doc." Nick clapped the surgeon on the shoulder. "When can we see him?"

"You can go in now, but it should be a few hours before he wakes up. I suggest you go home and get some rest. You all look exhausted." Bryan turned to leave, but stopped and swiveled around at the doorway. "Oh, and…this is the second time I've seen Mr. Sanders in less than a week. Could you guys try, in the future, to keep him out of here? I don't want to see him….In fact, I'd rather not see any of you in here again."

Nick chuckled. "You got it, Doc."

* * *

The plush chair next to Greg's bed was more than comfortable enough for Sara, and she'd fallen asleep sitting in it, getting some well earned rest. She was awoken around noon by the door opening.

"Hey, sleepyhead!" Nick said cheerily. "Brought you some coffee. And a bagel. Thought you could use something to eat."

"Thanks, Nick," she said sleepily as he set the bag and Styrofoam coffee cup on the bedside table.

"He still out, huh?"

"He hasn't woken up yet," she said, looking down at Greg's peacefully resting face, noticing with fondness how cute he was with wavy and tousled hair, a departure from his normally spiky 'do.

"Well, Sara, I've gotta return some calls. Be back soon. You sure you're ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured him. "You do whatever you need to, ok?"

Picking up the coffee, she settled even further down into the chair's depths, surveying the private room as she sipped the hot beverage. Picking up the remote control for the television mounted in the corner, she turned on the television in time for the local noon newscast.

"…we reported earlier that CSI graveyard shift supervisor Gil Grissom was murdered by CSI Greg Sanders, but we are now being told by the FBI that that is not the case. Apparently, it was all an elaborate ploy to catch escaped felon Tobias Slater. We've learned from the FBI that Slater had a personal vendetta against Gil Grissom. Slater kidnapped CSI Sara Sidle and contacted Sanders, threatening to kill CSI Sidle unless Sanders would kill Grissom. Sanders went to the FBI with this information, and they staged Supervisor Grissom's death in order to give themselves more time to hunt down Slater. CSI Sanders emerged as un unlikely hero when he tracked down the escapee, engaging in a shootout with him. During the shootout, Slater was killed and Sanders was critically wounded. He's now in Desert Palms, and his condition is now listed as stable. The FBI and LV Crime Lab are hailing him as a hero, saying that without a doubt, his quick actions and steady nerves saved the life of Ms. Sidle."

"So…I'm a hero, huh?" Greg's voice, heavy and groggy from drugs, pain, and exhaustion, made Sara's heart leap as she turned to him.

"Greg!" she exclaimed softly, gripping his hand gently. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"I…" his voice gave out. He cleared his throat and continued. "I'm not feeling much of anything. A little sore. My arm hurts."

"You got shot in the shoulder, messed up an artery. But the doctor says you're going to be fine, Greg. God…" she said, her voice catching, "I was so scared for a while there. I'm so glad you're awake," she said, gripping his hand harder. He squeezed back.

"You scared me too, ya know," he said.

"I know. Believe me, I wish this whole thing had never happened." She leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead as he suppressed a yawn. She bent further down and laid her lips on top of his for a kiss, savoring the sweetness for a moment. Then she leaned back and looked at him fondly with that familiar crooked half smile that he loved so much.

"What?" he asked. "What's going through that pretty head of yours, Sara Sidle?"

She opened her mouth, shut it, and then finally spoke. "I was just going to say…thanks."

His brow furrowed. "Thanks for what?"

"For…I don't know…for saving my life, for sticking with me no matter what. If I ever seem like I don't appreciatethat from youin the future…I do. You don't know how much, Greg. I'm just not used to having someone who's willing to go to any lengths for me…it's a new experience, and sometimes I'm just not sure how to handle it."

"Hey," Greg interrupted, holding up a hand on the uninjured side. "It's ok, Sara. I understand. We'll figure it out together. I love you, and I'll always be there for you. You can count on that," he said simply. Then he grinned widely. "I'd go to the ends of the earth and back for you, babe," he said, cheesily paraphrasing Garth Brooks.

She couldn't contain her amusement, and burst out laughing. He smiled, watching her and sending up a silent prayer of thanks for such an amazing woman.

Her laughter died slowly, and she let down the bed rail, leaning forward and resting her head gently on his chest with a contented smile. "I love you too, Greg Sanders."

_FINIS_

_--_

A/N: I sincerely hope that this story provided enjoyment for all of its readers. Thanks to all of you for sticking with it, regardless of the many cliffhangers thrown your way! Your reviews were kind and inspiring, and I appreciated every one of them more than you know. I may do a sequel if there is enough interest…this little bunny has been hopping around for a while. Once again…thanks!

Lalenna: Yes, I will probably do a sequel b/c I already have a great plot idea. Thanks for your faithful reviews and I hope this chapter and conclusion was up to snuff!

AmberKyep: Thank you for the compliment, and I'm so glad you have enjoyed the story so far!

Surfredia: Yay! I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for all your help with that plot bunny, the story is that much better for your help and reviews!

kegel: Ok, ok...I helped Greg. I couldn't kill him...I'm sure I would have been hated forever by many Greggo fans! Lol!

luminoso estrella: Yes, he's been through a lot but I couldn't resist putting him through just a little more. I just didn't think it would be that realistic to have everyone but the baddie escape unscathed. He's fine now though, I promise!

lins: Thank you! I'm really glad you've liked the story. Thanks for the comments:-)

sciencenerd: Now you know how it ends! Hope you liked it. And yeah, I'm fairly sure I'll be writing a sequel in the near future. If there is enough interest.

toxicat: Yes, yes, he turns out fine. I get too upset when other fics kill Greg...I could never do it!

NothingButSarah: I'm glad you enjoyed the shoutouts, I've enjoyed getting your reviews:-D

LocoGreggo: No, he's not dead. I couldn't kill Greg. Not ever!

Jenn Sidle: It's finally done! I hope you liked the ending...it took me a bit longer to write because I didnt want it to be trite or not thought out.

Unlikely-to-bear-it: FINALLY! I can have some hot fudge! YES!

DracoHermyarecute: I love HP! Can't wait for the new book. I'm glad you've been enjoying the story. Thanks for your review.

mellowyellow36: Any saying that means "hot stuff" is definitely applicable to Greg. I hope you enjoyed this chappy as much as the last!


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